Do you remember your first experience with a police person? Most people don't remember at all, but if you are black or a person of colour you may have a vivid memory of the encounter.
Strangely enough, I can still remember certain working people by name that provided services to our community. We all loved our mailman whose name was Bernard and now that I think about it, he was a gorgeous and elegant young black man that we all wanted to be like when we grew up. While delivering the mail, he would put his bag down and play games with us or show us how to bat a ball when we were playing baseball. He would even play hopscotch and jump rope showing us that boys can also jump rope with the girls. He would even play jacks with us. He was like a dad or an Uncle. Then there was Jimmy, our community police officer that would walk the beat, talk to our parents, talk to the big kids and play with us little kids and chase us around or race us to the end of the block. We also loved Jimmy. We also knew all the maintenance people coming into the neighbourhood because they always brought something delicious for us kids, like lollipops or sneak animal cookies to us. Often parents would make little snacks for all of those that came into the community. It was one big happy community until I was about 11 or 12 years of age.
At the age of 11 several of my friends and I were walking to school and encountered 2 police officers who pulled their car in front of us when we were crossing the street, we were laughing, bouncing our ball and pushing each other. They got out of their car with their hands on their guns and started to harass us, claiming that we looked like a group of boys that had robbed a nearby 7/11 store. We all looked confused, mainly because none of us knew what a 7/11 store was or where it could be located in our community. They didn't stop pressuring us and pulling us around until they could see the fear in the eyes of young black boys. That's when we realised that police were our enemy. Many of the parents got together to talk about this treatment and started lecturing boys and girls how to respond. Believe it or not we were taught to run if you see a police officer because they were no longer our friend or there to protect us. Their goal was to kill us for no reason except for the colour of our skin. As children, we still didn't understand it completely but understood that it was important to look out for each other.
The incidents never stopped. Police, Cops or Pigs as my big brother called them would park around black communities and wait to harass people, mostly black and brown men and boys. I have lost track over the number of hours I lost at school because I was being questioned for a robbery in a neighbourhood at some place of business that I was unaware existed. I vividly remember being shoved and pushed against the police cars, thrown in the back of police cars and driven around while being told stories how they would lock me up for life if I didn't tell the truth. Now I know they were making it all up to get me to react or say something that wasn't true. This treatment continued until I went away to college at 18. Unfortunately I didn't go far enough. I moved to Dallas, Texas and the cops were even more racist and brutal than the ones in Houston. After a few years, I transferred to a traditional black college in Houston and the harassment began again as I was driving a little red car. I was constantly being stopped and searched and called names, but I had learned at a young age to keep my mouth shut and only answer Yes or No. We all expected to be murdered by police before the age of 18 so I was one of the lucky ones. I was quite naive after living in Rome and Paris for 2 years in a college exchange program, I think that I had forgotten that I was hated back in America because of the colour of my skin. The final straw for me in Houston was when friends were visiting me from Paris and they invited me to their hotel to hang out, eat and watch movies. Upon leaving the hotel to return home, the police were waiting outside in their car near my little red ford pinto. I didn't think anything of it until they tried to arrest me. They said they had complaints that I was a prostitute and I have robbed a man and a woman inside the hotel. Again, I wasn't sure what a prostitute did, but I put up an argument. I was searched and my car was searched and I was harassed for about 2 hours before being released. My friends came down and started arguing with the cops, mostly in broken english since they were french. Finally 3 hours later, I was allowed to drive away but I was terrified and shaking like a leaf on a tree in the middle of a storm. The cops followed me for about 15 minutes and I expected to be killed by them and dumped somewhere. I asked my friends to call my mother to prepare give her an update. When I was almost home I noticed that I was still trembling and unable to speak clearly. My mother was furious. That's when I remembered why my brother had joined the air force to get away. My sister had also joined the Army to get away. My brother was living in Seattle and my sister was living in Vallejo, CA. That's when I made a decision to leave Texas. The racism and the hatred was taking a major toll on me. I begged my mother to come with me but she said it was her home and her brothers and sisters were nearby and that she was used to the racism and would stay in her place when around white people. Funnily enough, she had taught us kids to never stand for the inequality and to speak out against white privilege. Of the three kids I was the smallest and the most vocal one, always ready to fight for what was right for me or for any other person being bullied. I am still that way today.
I arrived in the San Francisco Bay Area and landed a job teaching and working for the Black Panthers. Today I realise that my innocence is what kept me alive. Truly if I understood all the things I understand now about racism, hatred, police brutality and corruption, I would have been on the front lines carrying a gun bigger than I was at the time. In all reality, I am sure I would have been killed. Instead I taught 6th grade to the children of the black panther party members and I loved it. It was the best school I ever taught at and I walked away with many lessons that are still useful to me.
Many years afterwards, I moved to Paris after learning and reading so much about novelists James Baldwin, Richard Wright, Chester Himes and learning about the great Josephine Baker, Nina Simone and why they left America. Richard Wright published one of my favourite books called Native Son, an important depiction of 20th century racism and its consequences. His writing showed more than the injustice inherent to the time, but the grave problems "the system" was creating between the oppressors and the oppressed. Today the ink still seems wet on his writings. Chester Himes had a tough life and spent many years in prison before landing in Europe. Two of Himes' books that I will read soon are, 'If He Hollers Let Him Go' and 'Yesterday Will Make You Cry'. I wanted to go to France to try to get an understanding of what they were feeling in another country. It was hard for me to understand how anyone could feel more at home in another country with a different language and a different culture. Is it possible?
On my first day arriving in Paris I felt more at home and more welcomed than living in America my entire life. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out why I loved it there so much. Before my departure, an Australian psychic told me that going to Paris would provide me with lessons for life that I would not obtain by being afraid to move there. He was absolutely right. Everything in Paris and Europe was the complete opposite of America for me. To start, I was not hated because of the colour of my skin. No one cared, although I kept waiting for a nasty remark or for someone to use the N-word. Never ever happened. Initially it felt odd to be treated with respect and as a human being, something that no true black person would ever feel in the United States of America, the land of freedom and liberty for certain folks only.
Returning as a person reborn, I was able to push through the negativity and racism and get done what I needed to get done. In 2017 I started to notice that hatred and racism was thriving in the land of freedom and it was having traumatic effects on black people and on most people of colour who were not willing to fit in and develop huge brown noses. White supremacists groups, Nazis and Ku Klux Klans groups were growing larger with one goal, to make America White again and expel all people of colour because they owned the land as they were taught to believe that it was God's will.
Throughout my life white privilege has been something that most white people used, misused or benefitted from for over 300 years. In circles of good friends that looked like me, we would laugh and joke and predict what would happen on our jobs, in our schools, in politics and in the world as a result of having or not having any privileges at all. Many lessons were learnt by the smart ones. For instance, finding an apartment in any city could be detrimental if you were black. It was no coincidence that the place was just rented right before you walked in to apply for it. No surprise either that every job or position applied for was always gone because someone just before you had been hired, although the same position would be listed 2 or 3 days later. When called about the position being open again I was always told that there was an error and no position was available. School was the same way, that is if you wanted to attend a well-known or university with high standards. Blacks were not allowed because grade point averages were not good enough although I can remember being an honour roll student making all A+s on my courses, mostly just to win a bet with friends that would buy me a cheeseburger, for a semester and to prove a point. I can remember eavesdropping on white people being excited and celebrating how lucky they were to get an apartment in San Francisco or New York. Remember, I have a big mouth and would interrupt to remind them to consider how many black and people of colour were refused until they walked in. They refused to believe me and usually called me the N-word which I always followed up with a threat or an equally negative name for them. My big brother taught me many negative names to use when responding to racist remarks and how to stand for truth and to never be afraid.
Karens have always existed, but thanks to the ability to be able to record actions of the privilege with mobile phones, the entire world gets to see not only vocal white supremacists, but we also get to see bleeding heart white liberals using politically correct racism, using their privileges to walk on others. One of my hobbies has always been to study people and learn how they get away with lying with a smile and a bit of nice racism. Karens have always been around, but now there is a generation that is calling them out. To help you understand, a Karen is a term used for a person perceived to be entitled or demanding beyond the scope of what is considered appropriate or necessary. Karens tend to use their white privilege as a weapon to make others follow their rules, although they often don't follow those rules because the rules are not for them, they are for blacks and people of colour. Karens are usually educated, have an elitist status and resent anyone of colour assuming that they can be equal to them. I am pleased that Karens and Beckys are being called out now. The story of the Karen and her male counterpart which I will call Ned felt bold enough to question someone about stencilling black lives matter on his property in the well-known area of Pacific Heights. Assuming that he didn't live there since he was not white, he had to be trespassing so they threatened him and called the police. Being white in any city in America, the cops will show up in a hurry. Try calling the police in an emergency if you are black, have an accent or live in an area that's not Pacific Heights and see how long it will take a police to show up if at all. The interpretation is that people of color don't really count to police departments composed of mostly white cops that are allegedly taught to hate black and brown people and to kill them if they blink an eye. Everyone knows black people are murderers, rapists, robbers and apparently always cut others off in traffic, along with any other negative things that can be created and taught to white children. It's inspiring to see that Karens are losing their jobs and reputations and even surprising that white or corrupt cops are being terminated as opposed to watching them go free or sent on administrative leave with full pay. This is a different generation that reminds me of my youth except they are stronger, smarter and using lessons learned from what white supremacist and racist have demonstrated to them since their birth. Corrupt by any other name would be just as corrupt as it was before, during and after slavery. By the way, the owner of the home, James Juanillo hoped to inspire others when he started stenciling “Black Lives Matter”on the retaining wall of his Pacific Heights home. He had been the owner of the home for several years. Karen and Ned lied and said that they knew the owner and it wasn't the man. Probably because he was a brown man. He recorded them with his phone and posted it as a result of their rudeness and racism.
Two years ago in 2018, DL Hughley was a guest on The View talking about the Black Community's Relationship with Police and Hate Crimes. He also talked about his memories as a young boy and how he was treated by police hired to serve and protect everyone and not just chosen ones. It's painful to see so many people being killed simply for the sport of it. The sad part for me is to keep hearing stories of every black man or boy, no matter where they grew up, match the struggles that I went through. I never considered that we were all treated the same as if all police departments were using the same curriculum to teach hatred, brutality, racism and how to successfully kill black men, boys, girls and women and to expect no repercussions because it is the right thing to do. Just this week the Tulsa, Oklahoma Chief of Police stated on live television that more African Americans ought to be shot more by police. What would happen if a black police chief stood up and said the same thing on live television? I think we all know what would happen. The moral of this story for me is to treat people they way they treat you. Trust me, they won't like it and will pretend to be the victim.
All anyone desires is equality. For some reason that appears too much to provide in a world that has survived on taking privileges from others and feeling that one deserves those privileges without doing anything worthwhile to obtain them. The hatred and racism is being observed by every country in the world but yet still persists. My hope is that everyone is 'Woke' and seeing the world without rose coloured glasses. I can only imagine the pain that my parents and grandparents suffered at the hands of many abusers, yet, I never remember one day that a relative or an elder person of colour would complain about how they were treated at work or on the bus or while walking down any street and being called derogatory names or referred to as certain animals in a zoo. They never taught us to share and carry their pain that was experienced. They did teach us to be honest, to be proud, to work hard, to look out for each other of colour and most importantly, to never lose hope for something better. My colleague, Jenée Johnson always reminds me that, "You may not be responsible for your wounds, but you are responsible for your healing."
Now back to the original question, do you remember your first encounter with the police?
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